Bum Ass Burgers...

FIRST AND FOREMOST: since when did it become cool to have a “burger shot”? Alright, before I start this short rant allow me to apologize for my lack of posts the past 3 weeks; I’ve actually been in my Batcave crafting topics to perfection. And they shall get revealed very shortly. So don’t worry, Team Detwiler is back and firing on all cylinders and I promise this rant won’t take up too much time. Now, am I the only man utterly offended by these itty bitty burgers Burger King is claiming as “Burger Shots”? I am a MAN, Burger King! I once looked at Burger King as the chief manufacturer of bad ass burgers. These burgers scoffed at men wearing white button down shirts and a neck tie. Burger King has the most disrespectful tomatoes in all the land. They squirt on anything in a foot and half radius. This company produced burgers that punished a woman’s finger nails with pickle juice and mayonnaise/ketchup. Has anyone ever had to eat anything within the four hours after eating a Double Whopper? Is it even legal to make a fish sandwich the size of Burger King’s fish sandwich? All these accolades and now your newest “gift” to humanity is a Burger Shot?! A “shot” of burger: a sandwich so small that IF I DRANK IT, my throat wouldn’t even flinch (no homo). God damn you Burger King for succumbing to the pressures of a health crazed world. You know, despite your commercial where you illustrate multitudes of females flocking to the man with “adorable baby burgers”, you have created quite the opposite sentiment in countless others. I’ll tell you this, Burger King: Rick Ross is PISSED right now! Fat Joe HATES you! Has anyone ever put a diss track out against a fast food corporation? Get ready. Furthermore, Jennifer Hudson is singing the hook…

I look at these bum ass Burger Shots and I wouldn’t even feed them to a caged pet. I want to freeze these minuscule burgers and play beer pong with these things. I can’t believe these are even on the main menu as opposed to a variation of the Mighty Kids Meal. Ah yes, the Mighty Kids Meal: the McDonalds medium for the kids too mature for Polly Pockets or Chip and Dale Rescue Rangers toys, yet still require their food given to them with a box of non toxic crayons in a bag with crossword puzzles and mazes. What are you fast food companies doing? White Castle does little burgers. That’s THEIR shit. Furthermore, they have been doing that for years. Lastly, they've never tried to make it sexy. Don’t insult me Burger King. Prepare to lay this project to rest next to the McRib very soon. My recommendation: invent a burger twice the size of the Double Whopper with ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, tomato, onion, pickles, and stuff it with either cheese fries or chicken fingers (shout out to the grease trucks at Rutgers New Brunswick) and name it the “Dinner’s Gonna Be Cold Tonight.”

Ode to the Sidekick....

What have I been doing with my life you ask? Very good question. I've been locked in my basement listening to every Jock Jams, Kidz Bop, and Wow! That's Music compact disk ever released. Don't judge me. They are just too addictive. But as I was listening to this marathon of terrible variations of past popular songs, something struck me. I HATE Kidz Bop. Why are these hyper little shits not taking a nap? Disturbia by Rihanna was annoying enough hearing it on the radio, and that was performed by Rihanna! What sick Mormon thought it would be genius to have record albums of children singing covers of current artists? And what's worse is that out of all the children singing in this mutant choir, you can only hear the voices of little Toby and Erin. Pedro and Tamika, however, have muted microphones on the day when the Jonas Brothers' Burning Up was to be recorded. Ironically, I sometimes think they were the only kids called on the day scheduled to do Jenny From The Block or 1, 2 Step...sick of it. Well, I'm tired of minority stars being pushed into the background. So at this time, I would like to give a few shout outs to all of the people that have been getting overlooked throughout the years. They just don't ever seem to get the credit that they deserve...

Everyone remember Doug Funnie? Yes, the All-American teenage boy that wrote in his journal every night about the events in his everyday life (kind of gay now that I think about it now). Well, I would like to give my first respect to his best friend Mosquito "Skeeter" Valentine. And yes, anyone with blue skin is a minority in my book. Oh, how I have longed to get a t-shirt with a thunderbolt on it and a pair of matching knee pads just so that I could be like him. This man commanded attention by walking into a room and yelling "HONK HONK." Again, it is well documented that this man uses "HONK HONK" as his opening statement. Who else could get away with some shit like that? And don't forget about his ability to turn into Silver Skeeter. Silver Skeeter. I giggled a little when I wrote that. If only they knew the meaning that word would later take in American slang...

My next shoutout goes to a young man named Gerald Johanssen. Not only did he have the tallest and most well-groomed high top fade in cartoon history, but Mr. Johanssen may have been the most ambitious of all minority sidekicks. This little boy broke into into a radio station, put on the sexy voice, and got an entire city to turn off their lights just so he could witness a comet pass. Word? Not to mention the fact that he was able to pull a sixth grader into going with him to his fourth grade dance. He's the only fourth grader that had a job hustling watches for a company called Wacko's Mechandise. Gerald is also the associate of the mysterious character named "Fuzzy Slippers" who he learns all of his urban legends and stories from.

When talking about overlooked minority sidekicks, you can't forget about the most intelligent of them all. This one goes all to way to Dimmesdale where Timmy Turner's best friend A.J. resides. This little boy has the most perfectly, spherically shaped head of all time. Artists need a compass to draw him. And don't forget about the I Am Legend-esque lab in his room that appears at the push of a button. It was said in one episode that the only reason that A.J. still bothers to stick around in fifth grade is because Timmy's his best friend. Otherwise he would have been a graduating college senior at the age of 10. Word of advice A.J.: stop fucking with Timmy's buck-toothed, pink hat wearing ass and get that money son.

This next shoutout is for Jimmy Neutron's superhero inspired friend. Sheen Juarerra Estevez perhaps has some form of ADD and is constantly running around spazzing and screaming "ULTRALORD" at the top of his 12 year old lungs. Sheen has been held back twice, but his knowledge of the Ultralord action television and comic book series is quite extensive. He's obviously the muscle of Jimmy's trio, (Carl Weezer being the third) seeing as how he could easily wear each of them out with his Kung-Fu skills.

The last shoutout belongs to Jonny Quest's half brother Hadji. Dr. Quest adopted him after he saved his life. He proves to be the most unique of all the minority sidekicks, given that he has some type of telepathic or magical capabilities. Only he can strike fear into others' hearts by yelling, "Sim, Sim, Salabim!" He's also the only one that is always wearing a hat...

Want Some Cereal?

Breakfast. It's claimed to be the most important meal of the day. Why? Does it really give you that zest needed to start off your day? Can breakfast somehow raise your scores exponentially on standardized tests? FALSE. Just to let you know, out of the hundreds of millions of people in the United States that eat cereal every morning, 87% of them are children. Furthermore, 59.2% of all statistics are also made up on the spot. I digress. When I was younger, I couldn't wait until Sunday or Saturday morning when my mom or dad would make the "big breakfast." The big breakfast consisted of either french toast or a cheese omelet, 2 or 3 slices of sharp cheese, pulpless orange juice (because who likes to chew their beverage), and swine. When I say swine, I mean almost endless plates of bacon, scapple, and sausage. God DAMMIT do I love the pork. Anyway, the reason why the big breakfast was looked forward to every Friday night was because from Monday to Friday I was subjected to its inverse: the little breakfast. Oh, you don't know how many Thursday mornings I would wake up and pray, by the graces of Thor the Thunder God, that someone had broken into my home the night before and poked holes in the gallon of whole milk (because skim is NOT milk...) and buried the cereal boxes at the bottom of the dirty clothes bin. Needless to say, I do not believe in you anymore, Thor. All I am saying, is who really likes cereal? I wouldn't ever consider it food, yet these cereal corporations work tirelessly to create marketing schemes and colorful mascots to make the "little breakfast experience" a healthy and well balanced start of my day. Excuse me, Mr. Cereal CEO (you know I actually like that title) but I do not find ANYTHING remotely healthy or balanced going on with Smaks the Frog...

My beef, for lack of a better word, with the cereal industry is that these companies create mascots for their products that are blatantly representative of the underclass we have in America. However, we overlook any obvious character flaws these mascots regularly exhibit due to the character's funny voice, bright colors, and humorous style of dress. These cereal companies have successfully created a fraternity of physically destructive, drug addicted, possibly child molesting, and overall funny looking mascots who have been staring you and me in our faces every Monday through Friday morning for our entire lives. Should the trend continue, who knows what bigger, better, and bolder mascot will capture the hearts and imaginations of our little breakfast consuming children. Is the world really ready for Eve the Milk Mama?

Look at Lucky from the Lucky Charms cereal brand. There's obviously something terribly wrong with this little man. Who really still thinks leprechauns are fun? Personally, if you take away their hats, leprechauns starkly resemble Prince. As for Lucky's cereal, it's 75% marshmallow (disregard my previous statement about statistics, America). Half of Lucky Charms' commercials show this man curled up in a little ball sitting in dimly lit areas whispering to himself, "they're after me Lucky Charms." Is that even proper English?! Furthermore, if he wasn't so hopped up on marshmallows to begin with, he could remember that children actually are mesmerized by magic. And, oh yea, LEPRECHAUNS KNOW FUCKING MAGIC. There is obviously something illegal in that little red box...or there should be at least. Hearts, stars, horseshoes, clovers and blue moons, pots of gold and rainbows, and some red balloons. The toy at the bottom of this box should be a beautiful bag of mushrooms. All I'm saying is school would be a lot more fun if you thought your school bus drove ON a rainbow every morning. Uncle Toucan Sam was obviously inspired by Sean Penn after playing the role of David Kleinfeld in Carlito's Way. He has no wife, children, or siblings yet he has three children that call him uncle. I'm sorry, I just find that fishy. Toucan Sam's catch phrase was "follow your nose" and coincidentally I tend to hear that a lot on BET's American Gangster. I wonder what Toucan Sam's episode title would be. The Trix Rabbit is actually the most cunning mascot of them all. This humanized rabbit has a college degree in reverse psychology. Have you ever met anyone who has said his or her favorite cereal was Trix? Do you even know what's in a Trix cereal box? When was the last time a grocery store was sold out of Trix? I'll wait while you ponder that. Children of America, you've been dooped. Trix are for kids? HA...you all have been "Tricked" it seems.

Look, all I'm saying is that these sugar saturated cereals are hardly good for anyone, especially children at 7am. Yet, they are sold to us by these suspect cartoon characters. Oh sure there are the straight arrows, Cornflakes' Cornelius the Rooster and Frosted Flakes' Tony the Tiger. However, no one cares or even eats that healthy crap anymore. It's all about how many kids Count Chocula and Captain Crunch can lure away from the playground swings in the new millennium. Come to think about it, I'm pretty sure Count Chocula is what Michael Jackson would resemble if he were animated.

Hip-Hop in 2009...

Season 3 bitches! New music...new topics...new set up. I'm back and I'm feeling this red look, I must say. Plus, I'm going back to the good ole days when Bad Boy was on top. I'm now trying to make my readers involuntarily Harlem Shake whenever reading one of my posts. So what is in store for the new year? We've got a black First Lady, a Justice League movie is in the works, and we are still debating on whether or not college football needs to replace the BCS with a playoff bracket. I've spent the past winter collecting dvds and trying to become the undisputed king of all iTunes. I have purchased a new digital camera, so I shouldn't have to say it but I will: bitches beware. I've actually been plotting an elaborate scheme involving kidnapping Dakota Fanning with a potato sack. That doesn't sound too elaborate, but I am actually a wizard when it comes to...potato sacks. Ah, and sudoku is the devil. For now though, I'm trying to make out what is in store for Hip-Hop in this new year...

This last year was a tragedy for Hip-Hop. I don't even know if most of the music that was created this last year could even be considered actual Hip-Hop. My last twelve months were dedicated to building an unyielding hatred for Soulja Boi and his inability to spell, read, or speak proper English. Not to mention, his Superman song inspired thousands of unsupervised 14 year old children to dance for their little brother's camera phone as he "cranks" a new dance of his own. Consequently, Soulja Boi is the sole purpose of millions of people wasting countless hours of their lives watching YouTube. Oh how I HATE you Soulja Boi. <------ And does anyone see that shit?? How the fuck hard is it to spell SOLDIER BOY. If I hear another grown ass man scream "YAH, BITCH!! YAH!!" I'm digging out Christmas tree ornaments and stabbing him in his forehead with the hooks. Why do people love Soulja Boi Tell 'Em so much? Matter of fact, what is Soulja Boi telling me, exactly? I can hardly make out what he's saying, and if I could, it would probably just give me the urge to slap the platinum out of his mouth. I would join Ice-T's army any day. Actually, I wouldn't...Ice-T, you can get slapped, too. Soulja Boy, someone told me that in a magazine, you once said you had a 4.0 GPA in high school but didn't want to go to college because "I wanted to become successful like Kanye West." I immediately took the shoelace out of my left shoe and choked him until he fell asleep. I refuse to believe such lies. You sir, wouldn't get a 4.0 if you were tested on material from one of your own albums.

And even if that statement was true - of all people, you chose Kanye? No Biggie? No Hova? Not Snoop, or even Luda? You pick Kanye West? Am I the only person who heard this 808's & Heartbreak album? Oh, and I use the term "album" loosely, because 11 tracks is not an album; that's an extended demo tape. Do you understand that this greasy nigga just released an R&B album without even having the ability to actually sing? Yes, R&B. Look, singing in autotune for 2 minutes and letting the beat ride for another 4 minutes is not Hip-Hop, Mr. West. Moreover, thank you T-Pain for unleashing autotune on the world. It's gone too far. Thr33 Ringz sounded like three songs on repeat (thus the essence of the album's title). Even T-Pain's videos look the same: black crusty nigga popping and locking in front of colorful computer enhanced backgrounds. AND he had the audacity to try and rap with DJ Khaled co-signing in the background. I won't even get started on you DJ Khaled (whom I simply refer to as Aladdin Hussein). You, sir, have sickened me with all these songs you claim are yours, yet you only ad-lib in the background. I only wish I could play 3 notes on a flute, and oompa loompas appear and take you away while singing a clever song...in autotune...

I happened to come across a survey in my Facebook mini feed the other day that said "Who are the 5 greatest rappers of all time". Well, that's an easy answer for me as I always swiftly answer, "Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan...and Dylan." Dylan is actually in a tie with himself for the fifth seed. But I was shocked when I saw names like The Clipse, Young Chris, and Fabolous mentioned (...no comment). I was infuriated to see Lil' Wayne's name appear on people's lists multiple times. This nigga Lil' Wayne is getting on my last nerve. All these tracks are just unnecessary I think. You don't get an award for most songs released in a year. His latest songs just have him mumbling random bull shit using autotune now. I could have sworn I heard this little nigga say he liked eating purple skittles and McGriddles while watching Snoop Doggy Televizzle on Tuesday afternoons. Lollipop Remix...second verse...look that shit up. This man makes so many songs that he could fill an entire iPod Nano to its capacity. I want to punch you in the spine Lil' Wayne. And I saw that shit with you kissing Bird Man. Nigga you gay. As gay as a bathing ape...

If Hip-Hop isn't dead, then it definitely looks like Christopher Reeve right about now. The only way for it to be revitalized is if more artists like Jeezy, Common, Luda, Talib Kweli, etc. make more contributions. I'll tell you what isn't helping (and never has helped) the game: Tupac albums featuring artists he has never met. No, it's not hot hearing a Tupac track featuring Bow Wow! Perhaps someone needs to rough up Eminem's daughter so he can get back to his violent lyrical rampages that made my middle school years so great. Perhaps, we need another relevant Hip Hop empire. Was it so long ago when Bad Boy dominated the mid 90s? Does anyone remember Rocafella owning the early 2000's? Jay-Z, Freeway, Young Gunz, and Kanye West: all Rocafella and all went platinum. I talk a lot of shit, but it's normal for the game to go through some slumps from time to time (i.e. the Reggaeton era) and I'm not too worried. So, please excuse me as I leave to go and do my part. I, apparently, need to contact Beanie Sigel to rectify this Soulja Boi situation...

Dash's Guide to College Living (Section III)...

So, I had to cut off the soundtrack of my life to right of this screen and dig into my dusty CD collection to write this post. I had to take it back to the days when taking turns on the computer and burning mix cd’s were the thing to do on a Tuesday or after a terrible party night. Everyone talks about how college is all about the connections you make and the experiences you have as result of those connections. See, I always thought college was all about Cup o’ Noodles, “surprise” diarrhea in the washing machine, kegs & eggs, and math (the world’s ratio of breasts to balls is 2:2…roughly). Yet, what purpose does fecal matter in washer A4 serve if I have no one to bitch to that my whites are now brown? Furthermore, if it was I who performed this mischievious act, if I don’t have anyone to laugh about this dastardly deed with, why even do it? That would be just weird. I say this because regardless of whether you’re doing the shitting or getting shitted upon, you need a group of peers by your side to commemorate your experiences. Thus, I have decided to divulge the science of creating the perfect peer group. Being a male, I write this for the benefit of my male readers; ladies you are more than welcome to read along as well and get a glimpse into the carefully orchestrated situation we like to call the "group setting." So…back by popular demand, I bring yet another section vital to your college survival: Formulating the E-Board.

Let me begin this third installment of the college living series by stating this: the E-Board is your crew. Throughout your college years you will come across many types of people: chicks who you have class with, chicks you want to knock down, guys who will get you into the party for free, cafeteria employees, the weed man, the chicks upstairs that are always down for the Domino’s 555, guys you will go to the gym with, the kid who always leaves his room unlocked, etc. They walk around you each and every day but they cannot all be in your inner circle. Your inner circle needs to be a nucleus of people that can mesh and aid the overall group in social settings. Below, I give you the different pieces along with their purposes to creating the perfect E-Board.

The Financial Backer: In any business there needs to be a money man. Now the E-Board is not some student organization with a treasury. That would require a "treasurer" and treasurers are usually very stingy when it comes to company funds. He is always analyzing whether or not something is a good financial move and putting the clamp on unnecessary buys. The Financial Backer’s purpose is somewhat like a treasurer only he does not operate as miserly. No, no, no. Situation: The E-Board is at the door of the party and two of us don’t have the money to get in. Instead of some of the group going in and forcing the other two to wait in the car, the Financial Backer fronts the money so we can all get in. Is he just an overly generous man? Shit no! 9 times out of 10, he’s pissed off. He is the most stressed out member of the E-Board because he knows that when we all go to the ATM at 10pm, while everyone else takes out $20, he takes out $60. He knows that there is always someone on the team crying broke, so he knows there’s a strong chance he won’t get repaid anytime soon. However, the true beauty of the Financial Backer is not that he relishes in the fact that he controls the money. A great Financial Backer understands the fact that the memories made on any given night are priceless. He understands that Voltron is only effective when it’s got all the pieces in place. So despite the fact that he’s peeved that he’s got to put up more money for the house party, put $10 extra in the gas tank, or buy a chick he isn’t even interested in a long island ice-t, he’s going to do it because more than anyone on the E-Board, he understands and appreciates the time the group spends together and the memories made. Moreover, he tends to attract chicks that see him spending money (money hungry bitches) and a lot of times money hungry bitches have friends. So he always has at least a guaranteed two chicks coming back to the E-Board house for an after party…


The Bully: Look, if you’re a pretty boy, they think you’re soft. If you’re smart, they are going to think you’re weak. If you’re all about a good time, they’ll think you’re dumb. This will apply to the company you keep as well. However, no matter what type of group you find yourself in, that group is going to need a bully. The Bully regulates when no one else will. The Bully also knows other bullies. His purpose is not to run the E-Board with an iron fist though. He doesn’t use his bullying superpower on the E-Board but rather on everyone outside of the E-Board. The Bully serves two main purposes: 1. He is 24/7 protection. This guy is always down for a good fight regardless of cause. He also is the most aware of possible causes for altercation. Plenty of times has the bully on my E-Board pulled me aside at a party or bar and warned me of something about to "pop off." On the other side, he’s the guy in your group others are most aware of if an altercation ever does arise. 2. He serves as the “thug” chicks subliminally desire. Let’s face it. A lot of chicks like a dude to be bigger, stronger, and give off a sense of ignorant manliness. The Bully serves as the “gulliest” guy in the group in respect to its other members. Take it in these terms: if the group is wearing suits and ties, the Bully puts on khakis and a button up with the top button undone. And no, he does not wear a tie either. If the group is wearing white t-shirts, jeans and boots, the Bully is wearing a knife and nunchucks (...and perhaps an eye patch even). The Bully will also bully (ironic) a couple of weak chicks into coming back to the E-Board's crib after the party. The Bully also has no problem throwing chicks out of the after party to make the guy to girl ratios suitable for the E-Board. Lord knows I would never kick a chick in the butt, but the Bully will kick a chick hard with no remorse...


The Diplomat: Every group needs a PR man. The Diplomat serves as just that. The key to the Diplomat is that he must possess the unique quality of crossing racial lines. Your group should be very diverse when it comes to personalities but let’s face it: races tend to stick together. So a lot of times you will find that one black guy in the group of all white guys or vice versa. It's like they had an affirmative action member thrown into the mix. Oh, how I find this so lame and counterproductive. So, that’s where the Diplomat works his magic. Instead of adding a member to the E-Board because he fits in but just happens to be a different color, add a member who is the same color as the group but is known to hang out with people of a different color. So what, you black boys got a white boy in your group. He acts black and only likes black chicks. Thus, you’ll still be doing the same things whether he’s on your E-Board or not. I prefer the black boy who is from the suburbs, acts white, and likes Latin chicks. He might look like me, but if we never met then I would never have been exposed to beer bongs, themed parties, bagel bites, and fire crotches. The overall purpose of an E-Board is to have a diverse crew that enhances your college experience. The Diplomat’s purpose is to provide opportunities that no other member of the crew could provide. Have you ever been to “Hi-Liter Party?” Consult your Diplomat if you have not because then he is not doing his FUCKING job. The Diplomat is guaranteed to provide at least one foreign chick and one friend (may or may not be foreign) to the E-Board house after the party.


The On Button: This guy is the blood of the E-Board. He is probably the most influential cat in the crew. Through the blessings of the party gods (Frank the Tank and John Belushi), he was created and brought to the E-Board to breathe spontaneity into any situation. He is basically the Beastie Boys crammed into one body. The party hasn’t started until this guy has sprayed his face with shaving cream and somehow has gotten chicks to sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. He just makes chicks feel comfortable with relaxing and enjoying the moment (whatever that might be at the time). I believe some of you people would say he has “swagger.” Sidenote: NIGGAS STOP REFERRING TO YOURSELVES ON FACEBOOK AS SHIT LIKE, John SUPERSWAG Doe. I want to beat you fucks with your skull studded belts. If you have to assert to yourself and trick complete strangers that you have this coveted “swagger” then you don’t have it. Swagger. I believe that term is designated for anyone wearing True Religion jeans or a Louis V scarf. You can learn swagger. You can create swagger. The On Button doesn’t possess swagger. The On Button just has a beautiful gene that allows him to recognize social situations and possess the ablility to make them comfortable for everyone involved. Unfortunately, The On Button tends to access his special powers at their truest form when he’s under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol. So, a lot of the time The On Button tends to get into some type of predicament at some point. The On Button will assure a good time for everyone in the party, but at 4am you are going to have to pick his unconscious and naked body up from the school library steps, clothe him, and then chase him after he “escapes” from your car as you try to take him home. The best part of The On Button is he is the most sociable of the E-Board, so he is the perfect playcaller or wingman. Whether you are steering the ship or he is, he can always make a 2 on 2 (2 chicks and 2 guys) a memorable night. The On Button will always get a minimum of 3 chicks to come back to the E-Board's house to continue the party…

Daniel Ocean: This would be the final component to the E-Board. If The On Button is the blood and adrenaline, the Bully being the muscle, the Financial Backer the brain (and pockets), and the Diplomat being the mouth, then Daniel Ocean is the head of this Voltron that is the E-Board. He is the link that brings all these characters into one force. He is the mastermind behind getting everyone together. He is normally the brains of the operation as he decides where and when the pre-game will happen, recommends what chicks should be invited (and not invited), what parties the crew will attend, etc. He is the president of the E-Board but doesn’t speak on it because it’s recognized by everyone in the group. He’s the invisible hand. Being the common denominator of the entire team, he can play wingman for every member at any given time. Because, he is often running the position of wingman, he rarely accomplishes a set number of chicks to bring to after party. He just shows up and continues to play wingman or hones in on chicks that are there in surplus...

Remember, one of the reasons why men enjoy college so much is because of the potential to get busy with multitudes of women. So keep in mind, you will open yourself up to way more women if you work collectively with a team of guys with whom you have created chemistry. Furthermore, the essence of a fun (and successful) evening is achieving a popping afterparty. No one wants to party until 2am just so he can go to bed at 2:30am. I assure you, unless you are Van Wilder himself, it is impossible for one man to entertain a post-2am shin dig in the apartment or dorm room with just himself and 5-6 women. I don't care how much liquor he has or how much attention he spent that afternoon creating the "perfect" iPod play list. The E-board is about a group of 5 guys who work together to entertain 5 chicks with the overall objective of getting everyone laid. By the group working as one, the popping afterparty solidifies another successful team effort. It was a great man (I believe it was Mr. Rogers actually) who once said, "ain't no fun if the homies don't get none." And THAT my children is the motto of every chapter of the E-Board. Questions, comments, or concerns...contact Daniel Ocean.

TUMail Evolution...

This would be the bullshit. My life is in absolute upheaval. This would not be caused by last week's election results, but because of the fact that Temple University feels as though it is necessary to "fix" things that don't need to be fixed. Why is it that people are always trying to innovate things that are already sufficient enough?

Well as we all know, Temple University Mail is now powered by Google (now isn't this just dandy...). Now I can receive AOL IM's, Facebook chat messages, AND chat bubbles all in my school's email. Just when I thought that there was nothing worse than that childish bubble pop you hear upon receiving a Facebook chat message (that pop noise is the one a 5 year old girl with a red juice mustache does with her gum in the desk behind me in kindergarten), I was exposed to this new "poomp" sound (yes...a "poomp") created by my new Gmail account. Outrageous. I shouldn't have to deal with this malarkey. It's almost impossible to stay OUT of contact these days. Do you know what this means? Anyone that has your Temple email address can attack you with a chat message at ANY time. I swear to God, if I hear that noise and look at that little window to the bottom right of my screen and it contains the name Professor Giammorco, that man is going to disappear and awaken half naked in a grimey and dimly lit room several days later with thousands of fully loaded staple guns around him and a vintage Talkboy tied to a string on his wrist labeled, "I want to play a game" (it's 2008...I can't find a tape recorder anywhere).

Besides this emerging issue of being utterly vulnerable to the new evils of spontaneous communication, after I touch a mouse and double-click the Internet Explorer icon (p.s...I've just received a "poomp" message from my mother via TUmail) I see that I have lost ALL of my emails from before November 13, 2008. Please let me find the idiot who came up with the BRILLIANT idea to delete everyone's emails halfway through a semester (and what do we call that period of time? oh yes: midterm time). I was getting along just fine by emailing papers to myself instead of purchasing a flash drive. Now my inbox that had archives upon archives of perfectly edited academic papers on various subjects has been thoroughly depleted. Was this change that important that it could not wait until winter break? Winter break: you know, that time when there are no classes! I feel as though I could have made it the rest of the semester without the pointless extra features of Gmail and the deletion of email addresses of TA's and instructors. What do I need a photos link in my email for? Isn't that why Facebook exists? This shit is nonsense...

On top of all this, now I have to deal Temple University's everlasting technical issues. Why is it that I am required to change my password every 84th hour? I am quite certain no one wants to read the thousands of spam messages I get via TUmail. Now after being mandated to change my password, I can't even get into my email account. Somehow, even though I had to type it TWICE to verify the change, the server tells me that my password is incorrect. Oh really, server? I JUST CHANGED THIS SHIT 3 MINUTES AGO. You would think there would be an easy way to reset your password in a situation like this. Nope, absolutely not. Click on the "forgot password" link and look at the security questions that they give you. How the hell are going to ask me questions about myself that I don't even know? Who do think you are, server? I do not remember what time I was born nor who my favorite pop singer was at the time I registered my account. What ever happened to entering your birthday or your social security number? Now security is based on whether or not someone can guess what your favorite Dr. Seuss book was when you were five. This shit is pitiful...

A Letter to Black America...

Here we are, finally. I am sitting in my living room writing this post on the Eve of the 2008 Presidential Election. Tomorrow on November 4, 2008 history will ultimately be made. Either the Republican Party creates history and seats a woman in the Vice Presidential position or the democrats will forever be able to claim it is the party of the first black president. Nation, tomorrow is a great day indeed; however I guarantee regardless of the outcome on November 4, 2008, it will be the events of the remainder of the week that will live in infamy. Look, normally I write posts simply to make others laugh; this post does not have that objective entirely. In fact, this may be one of my most ignorant posts to date, but I feel its topics need to be brought to the attention of America. So, without further ado, this is my letter to a select few of Americans:

Dear Black People,
I will begin with this: I think we can agree that if Senator McCain wins tomorrow it will indeed be yet another stolen victory for the Republican Party. It was sad in 2004 and it will feel 10 times as worse if it happens again in 2008. Never has America been so close to putting a Black man in the highest office of the land. Not only is he a Black man, Obama is also incredibly charismatic, educated, motivated, and eager for leadership of a nation in tumultuous times. He was not a last minute candidate thrown on the ballot. Remember back to the primaries where it looked like if you were a democrat you could run for the democratic ballot? How many candidates did the Democratic primaries start with again? Let us not forget that some of the same people that are quick to throw on a “Barack the Vote” t-shirt today were thoroughly supportive of Hilary Clinton when she was attacking his experience. So, we (and by “we” I mean Americans…not just black people) truly have someone running that is worth voting, and not just the lesser of two evils as was the case in ‘04. So I guess it’s imperative that everyone who wants an Obama administration get out there and vote. What do I not endorse? In the event Senator McCain wins, Black America: do not get enraged and decide to destroy everything. Look back at the Rodney King verdict. We do not need a Black nation deciding to cry “fuck it” as we burn our communities down for the remainder of the week because we were robbed by the Man again. Think. Who really wants the icing of another stolen victory to be “McCain brings peace to the streets after election riots”? I’m not saying don’t be disheartened by a possible McCain win tomorrow. I’m saying don’t give White America a reason to make John McCain and Sarah Palin tragic heroes instead of thieves.

Now, on the flip side: in the event Obama receives this deserved victory, BLACK PEOPLE JUST GO IN THE HOUSE! Let me make this next statement very clear: Barack Obama is not (I repeat, IS NOT) O.J. Simpson. They may have the same walk but I assure you, if Black America reacts to the election results like we did for the verdict of the O.J. trial, it will be a terrible look. This is not the Super Bowl or the World Series. Do not be a “nigga” and end up on the evening news hanging from a light post. Do not be a “nigga” and call out of work on Wednesday simply because “we got a black president now.” Do not be a “nigga” and make up any dances that have “Obama” in its title. If I so much as hear of an Obama Samba, I will become a terrorist and only target Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevards around the nation. I promise. Black America, if we are so lucky to get a Black Man as Commander in Chief, don’t you think we should do our best to NOT make it difficult for him? Expectations are high enough. Don’t make this man declare martial law because “niggas” are making him look bad. Furthermore, do you know how embarrassing it will be if his first address to the nation has to with him sitting behind a desk and his opening statement starts with, “Niggas, it’s time to cut the shit…”? I know I will feel rather empowered should Obama win this election. Will I decide to set flame to every white car I see? No. Will I point at every white person I see and say, “ha-ha” like Nelson from the Simpons? No. Will I date white women? You better believe it baby. The fact of the matter, however, is we should follow Obama’s lead when it comes to humility. There have been numerous times when I’ve wanted Barack to give McCain the People’s Elbow. I think we’ve all wanted Barack to get a little hood to some degree when the red side attacked him. However, he showed restraint. Restraint is the word of the week Black America. Should he win, restrain yourself from running in the streets praising Jesus. Restrain yourself from going to the club and “poppin bottles” in the name of Obama (knowing full well the cable bill hasn’t been paid). Restrain yourselves Black America. You want to celebrate and still satisfy your inner-nigga? Watch Soul Plane. Period.

Look, should Senator Obama become President Obama, he’s got a lot of work to do. He’s inherited a terrible economy and an ongoing war. This isn’t something that is easily dealt with. We have lived in a fantasy world for the passed 20 months where we have let ourselves believe that the president has the power to change the course of the nation with a stroke of his pen, when in actuality that is not how U.S. government operates. He is not going to be able to solve all of the nation’s problems in a week, month, or even a year. With that, conservatives are going to be quick to attack him. Black America, now is the time to really band together. If we can “come together” to support R. Kelly or Michael Jackson, we for damn sure better come together and not turn our backs on the First Black President. We are so quick to build ourselves up only to turn our backs on each other when we achieve success. Please believe that if Obama becomes president it’s because Black America put him there. So…let’s protect our investment.

Niggas don’t fuck this up,

MachineGunDashy

Ring Tone Regulation...

Peak-a-boo you mark ass busters! For some reason as I begin to type this post, I can’t help but hear the opening line of Mase’s “Welcome Back” on loop in my mind. Welcome back…welcome back…welcome baaaaaaaaaacckk. Yes, guys and gals (I sound like Sarah Palin) it has been quite a long time since I last tapped the keys of my laptop to leave you with some words of wisdom. October has been an enlightening month for me, I must say. I’ve been earning a decent and honest pay check and then investing it in the drug game (mostly pills). I’ve been going to my classes; this way I have an alibi when my instructors find their tires slashed. I’ve been hunting women like quail almost nightly. Amazingly, I have yet to catch syphilis. Look, the month of October has been a fulfilling month. The month isn’t over though. For Halloween, I plan to dress up as Max Payne…and kill myself. What an awful movie…

Nation, I was on an elevator today. As I was coming down from the 21st floor, it stopped on the 15th where a relatively young (I would say he was about 27) white guy proceeded to squeeze into the elevator. As we are smoothly descending toward the lobby the same man’s phone starts to ring. By ring, I mean “Gold Digger” by Kanye West starts playing. (SHE GIVE ME MONEY) I was so startled. Whose phone needs to be that loud? I could have sworn it was coming out of the elevator speakers. (NOW I AINT SAYIN SHE A GOLD DIGGER) the white guy pulls out his phone and flips it open. I immediately get annoyed because this douche bag has some way gotten service on an elevator. So either he has Verizon…or he’s a gypsy of some sorts. (SHE GIVE ME MONEY) why is this man’s phone still singing? I look in his direction and I notice that he is looking down at his screen. I guess he was debating on whether he wanted to pick the call up or not while the song played. (GET DOWN GIRL GO ‘HEAD GET DOWN) Jesus Christ when did that song even come out? It’s 2008. I look over to see why the phone is still making noise only to observe that he has decided to let it play out as he ignored the call. He was actually bobbing his head to the bum ass sound quality of his phone’s speaker. (HE LEAVE YO ASS FOR A WHITE GIIIIIIIIIIRRRL) I’ve decided to slit his wrist with my pen cap. Just then the elevator reached the lobby and he exited the elevator. It was then that I realized this: America, we need ring tone regulation!

My people, unless you are between the ages of 9 and 17, you are NOT allowed to purchase ring tones (or ringbacks for that matter) for your mobile device. Mother, “Fergalicious” should not play when you get a phone call from my brother’s high school principal. What in Harry Potter’s wand happened to the phone going “ring ring?” Are you cool now because you’ve turned your Fav Five into a Blink 182 playlist? Although YOU may like the songs you put on your phone, you’re only playing these once popular tracks out and pissing off everyone around you. Ring tones are for children who have yet to experience the sheer beauty of an iPhone. Only if you’re a child, I expect you to invest in a couple jingles to go along with your trendy glittered phone clip. However (taking a deep breath), if you have “A Milli” by Lil Wayne as your standard ring tone…and you ride the FUCKING train, I’m releasing rabid dogs in your neighborhood on Halloween night. What sense does it make for you to have an Easy E track as a ring tone, but your voice message sounds like this: Good day! You’ve reached the mobile device of Anthony Bainbridge of the Bainbridge & Skyles Firm. Unfortunately I have missed your call and would truly appreciate it if you would leave a detailed message as to why. Thanks a ton and have a great day…BEEP. Nation, I propose that your voice mail message should parallel your ring tone should you decide that you need ring tones on your phone. So if “Miss Independent” is your ring tone, your voice mail should start like this: “Fuck niggas…only bitches making paper on they own can say shit after the beep”. If you prefer “Put On” by Young Jeezy, this is your voice mail’s message: “HA HA (Jeezy laugh) nigga I be missin calls like shit (LIKE SHIT) so you gotta leave a message (A FUCKIN MESSAGE) or I aint callin you back (DAAAAAMN)”. And for you older folks, if you want any Michael Jackson song, no matter what your voice mail says there needs to be the sound of swings and children’s laughter in the background. NO FURTHER QUESTIONS.

Look, if we don’t stop this ring tone obsession, who knows what can happen. What? Am I going to come home tomorrow night and BET is hosting the first annual Ring Tone Awards? What happens when the song is not enough? One day when our phones ring, if you have a ring tone not only will the song play, but so will the Dave Myers directed video. Do you know how screwed up my day will be if a Missy Elliot video pops up on my phone every time I get a call? So please, America, leave these ring tones alone. Let the kids play with them and you just stick with “ringer 3” that COMES WITH THE PHONE!!!

The Great Society...

Facebook is such a marvellous invention. What started out as an opportunity for old friends to find each other and get reacquainted, has transformed into a global social network that has completely transformed the way people meet one another. Remember back to a time when you saw an attractive chick, you would ask your friends if they knew her; the next time you saw her you would talk to her, get her number and talk to her on the phone, maybe even chill or go to the party. Now, you see a cute chick and the first thing you do after you find out her name is run to the Facebook Gods. What has happened? Facebook is its own world and now you have an account of thousands of friends based on the pictures, applications, bumper stickers, and favorite quotes. I have news for you though: not everyone on your friend list is that. Different people use Facebook for different reasons. So, let me break down the different types of Facebookers...

The Polite. These Facebookers feel the need to accept every friend request, attend every event, and confirm every group invitation sent their way. This isn't because they are looking for Facebook fame and popularity, but because they do not want to turn down a new "friend". The Polite leave you posts on your birthday and tell you that your hair looks nice in your new profile picture. Sometimes they take the time to leave good remarks on every picture in the new album that you put up (even though half of those pictures consist of you posing in your bathroom fully dressed for no reason at all with the camera pointed towards the mirror). If your status implies that you are feeling ill or distressed they will send you some words of encouragement or a fucking teddy bear or band-aid. They may even send out a massive SuperPoke to wish everyone a Merry Christmas (personally, I like to throw Obamas at everyone on my friend list...repeatedly). However, The Polite do not usually get the same attention reciprocated. These polite Facebookers may visit the site 2 or 3 times a day.

The Oblivious. The Oblivious are those who seem like they are not even aware that they have a Facebook or do not know how to use it (anymore). This person probably started an account because they wanted to see what all the hype was about. My favorite excuse people use for signing up and remaining on Facebook: "networking." Whatever. Anyway, this category could include teachers, principals, parents and those from the "old school facebook days" who just do not care about learning how to use all of the ever evolving handy Facebook features. The Oblivious has no bumper stickers, rarely pops up in your mini feed, no trivia points, and keeps the same profile picture for years at a time. The Oblivious is not hip to any gossip that goes around Facebook because, like the ordinary student, he actually enjoys the company of people rather that viewing pictures of people. The Oblivious will also have pictures tagged by others but will never put up his own album. Anyway, it is obvious that The Oblivious Facebooker never checks their Facebook account...

The Party Promoter. These Facebookers are on a mission to add EVERY member in their network so that they can send you 74 messages a week reminding you about the party they have just set up. I swear to God if I receive another event invitation from the Jersey Boys. They have only given me more of reason to drop dirty diapers on Moorestown from my "I Hate New Jersey" blimp. The Party Promoter is constantly contacting you via mass message claiming that he is personally inviting you to the best party of the year even though he will invite the same people to the same party next week which happens to be at the EXACT same venue. Every party, by the way, is either a play off the title of some hot new hip hop single, some new definition of sexy, or pumped with a flyer with some video model that definitely WON'T be at the party. By the way, when I meet this "Golden Boy" who thought it was appropriate to make two profiles and marry himself, I'm getting on the phone and calling the real Golden Boy (Oscar De La Hoya) and paying him to jab you in the throat thrice. Also, The Party Promoter's name is constantly popping up in your mini feed as he adds more of your friends while trying to achieve utter social domination of your network. He's the one that gets you excited when you see that you have 7 new notifications only to find out that you have only been invited to the same event 6 times and he has invited you to a group where you can talk about it. Yes, it is the Party Promoter that makes your wall extra long because he wants to post ALL of the party information on it. He's the one that you hate, yet everyone on campus knows his name and face.

The Stalkers/Creepers. These Facebookers are among the worst. They will sit at their computers and look for attractive members of the opposite sex and then add them as friends (or worse: repeatedly poke them). The Stalkers are the ones that are actually brave enough to send you messages and photo comments saying that you are "sexy" or "cute". However, The Creepers will just visit your page everyday looking for changes on your profile. If your default picture or your status changes, expect a new Honesty Box Message. By the way, what is the purpose of an Honesty Box? That's the dumbest shit ever. All people ever do is either profess their undying love to their crushes...anonymously, or talk wild smack to their enemies...anonymously. Either way, anyone who writes in Honesty Boxes also checks the "PUSSY" box on applications that ask for ethnicity specification. But back to the Stalkers/Creepers. Most people have at least one person that lingers over their page and then stares eerily at you as you are seen walking around campus. Ladies, pay attention. Somebody is always watching you. ALWAYS. Shit, I have three chicks on my high alert list as we speak. These Facebookers log on to Facebook anytime they are able to access a computer with internet service. And you better believe that after they check their own profile, they are looking at any new picture you posted with you and your friend's breasts mashed against each other...

The Famished for Attention. This may also get broken down into 2 groups: the bored or the desperate. It may be boredom that drives these Facebookers or maybe they are actually starving for some attention. Their status changes literally 8 times a day so that they make sure you know exactly what is going on in their lives at every moment. They come out with a video every week that includes some form of dancing or some late night dorm room activities. The extreme ones even change their name every other day. I will let you in on a little secret: NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOU OR YOUR PROBLEMS. Your real friends might. Try talking to them...in person. Personally, I don't want to be tagged to another note that talks about your current trials and tribulations. I got my own shit to deal with. I do not want to listen to yours. God dammit, do you know what a "note" is in real life? Remember when you were in 4th grade and the girls in class had a marble composition book and they passed it around a group of 7 or 8 chicks? Yes, THAT is a note. Little bitches write notes about the teacher's gap in her teeth or Brian's new haircut or Emily being gay because she throws the football with the boys at recess. Furthermore, notes are written (I repeat: written) on lined paper in bubble letters from a pen with pink or baby blue ink. A grown man or woman should not be typing "notes" in FUCKING college. Ones that do this out of boredom should just go play intramurals or something. It's the ones that do it for pity or attention that make me want to find them with Sock'em Boppers on my hands and give them a REAL problem to whine about. These Facebookers only need to log on once a day because they NEVER close their window. They just repeatedly hit the home button waiting for something new to pop up.

The Application Addict. You already know who this is. Everybody knows that they have at least one Facebook Friend that is constantly inviting them to partake in applications such as Zombies & Vampires, Mob Wars, Ninjas & Samurai, Superlatives, Jetman, What's Your Stripper Name?, Happy Hour, Let's Make a Baby, etc. Nobody wants to play your games you gypsy. I do not want to make ANY virtual babies with you. And stop sending me drinks. If you want to be a real friend, take me to the bar and buy me a real one you cheap fuck. The Application Addict is the one that you can't leave a comment for because you cannot decipher whether it gets left on the Advanced Wall, Super Wall, or regular Wall. They send you 26 bumper stickers every 3 hours because it reminded them of you. The Application Addict is by far the most annoying Facebooker and makes you evaluate why you even accepted their friendship in the first place. The Application Addict spends a butt-load of time on Facebook annoying you with every quiz and application there is...


The Crazy Girlfriend. Oh yes this is my personal favorite. The one that adds drama and humor into your life. The Crazy Girlfriend also exhibits traits of The Stalker/Creeper. She's the one that's "married" to someone one day and then switches to "it's complicated" the next. She leaves her boyfriend a wall post every day because in her sick mind, she's marking her territory. It's more than likely that she checks her boyfriend's page before she actually looks at hers. And there's a very good chance that if you walked into her room unexpectedly you would catch her 3 pages deep into reading a wall-to-wall conversation between her boyfriend and someone else. She may call it "investigating". I call it "why are you fucking retarded". This highly unstable woman gets upset over the smallest things. Her boyfriend may commonly hear things such as "Who the fuck is this bitch you just added as your friend" or "you ain't even that close to this bitch, why are you on her Top Friends list?" She makes it impossible for her boyfriend to even have a Facebook account. When she sees him in a picture with another female she goes on a rampage, sending out wild Honesty Box messages stating "stay away from my man", or "I'm gonna fuck you up slut". Having this woman in your life means that you no longer have any female friends and have to duck camera flashes at every party you attend. Your tagged photos link leads to nothing more than multiple photos of you blocking camera lenses. Tragic. The Crazy Bitch (I mean Girlfriend) visits Facebook as much as an ordinary student, however her attendance to the site sky-rockets when she is suspicious something is going on...

Well in conclusion, I guess you're wondering how I feel about myself being involved in the Facebook Society. Just to let you know, if you found me on Facebook or if I found you, chances are you will probably NEVER see my real face. That's not because I don't like you but I believe before the Facebook existed, friends ACTUALLY knew what their friends looked like. So those who really know me, know what I look like. So unless of course you happen to hear my name called for attendance in one of your classes or something, I remain a glitch in the matrix: the faceless facebooker. If you build up the confidence to approach me and call out my name as I exit the classroom, I will just look at you blankly or run away screaming "STRANGER DANGER." Why you ask? Usually as people we try to be polite to make a good first impression when we first meet someone new. Well not I, said the fly. The first impression of me was spoiled the moment you went to my page saw the little negro Mario rocking the Obama pin as my profile's default picture and started reading this blog. So now there is no need to try because you THINK you already know me. Ah, Facebook...way to go on murdering the first impression for everyone...

Dash's Guide to College Living (Section II)...

Ok...So I have already covered part of what it is required to be socially involved in the college environment. But let's try to remember the real reason why mom and pop are shipping you away to this institution of higher learning. Teaching yourself the physics of playing a flawless game of Quarters is hardly worth $30,000 a year in tuition. There's a necessary component to college that involves acquiring a degree of some sort. Despite my praise of the social aspects of collegiate life, I fully understand the necessity behind keeping a legitimate grade point average. If you don't make the grade, the parents take away the dorm where you get laid. Write that down. Now I'm going let you in on a little bit of information that could help you out with the book learnin' side of school. Believe it or not, getting a high GPA isn't all about perfect attendance and participating in every class you are enrolled. Sitting in the front of class and raising your hand for every question gets the same results in college as it did in high school: I steal your chocolate milk. You don't have to stay in your little cubicle of a dorm room on Friday nights completing papers to ensure your academic achievement. Instead, by knowing the following vital information, you will get through your college career with at least a quality 3.0.

#1. Math:Indians::Microsoft:Bill Gates. That's a little analogy for you, and my suggestion is to take heed. Indians OWN math. Indians have taken over the concept of math like Asians have taken over the art of popping and locking (sorry Omarion, but have you seen Kaba Modern or the Jabbawockies). Furthermore, they refuse to relinquish their supreme knowledge of numerals to anyone else like they invented the subject. Pure selfishness. Have you not noticed that 95% of upper level math classes are taught by Indian professors that can hardly speak English? Either that or they blatantly refuse to learn. It's a conspiracy. If you're lucky, you may get the pleasure of learning basic algebra from Mr. Smith; however, when it comes to learning Calculus with Professor Pallavi Chitturi, it's the end of the road for your mathematical education. The only way to actually pass this class would be to drop it before it's too late; take Introduction to Indian and then take calc again next semester GRANTED you get an A- in Intro to Indian. It's just not worth it and the cards are already stacked against you. While you struggle with balancing equations involving sines and cotangents, Nirav is sitting next to you dozing off because his father taught him all that shit during his summer vacation between 4th and 5th grade. When you were younger, you played with Legos and action figures. Nirav's teething ring, on the other hand, was a god damn calculator. Mathematics is passed down through their culture like a flask in the Fitzpatrick house. So trust me, if you really want to get a quality GPA, scratch any math related majors. You'll get tired of Kumar whispering to you, "chill fam, I got this" after all your incorrect answers.


#2. Pad Your Stats. Every college student has to follow a curriculum based on their major in which they have to take some core courses in order to graduate. The key to achieving good grades in these courses is picking the right classes. If you know you love to party during the week, you obviously don't want pick the earliest classes available. Make sure these classes fit into a schedule that is good for you. And when you are picking these classes, stick to things that you already know. You are not Aristotle. You do not need to learn everything that looks interesting to you. Chances are that 78% of the bullshit you learn in these classes will not be used at all after the semester is over. Which means that if you took Spanish I and II in high school, fuck it; start all over again at Spanish I in college. That's a guaranteed "A" and a 4.0 averaged into your stats. When it comes to selecting a course for your science requirement, Geology is the way to go. Yes, it's boring. But you get to go play with rocks 3 times a week and get yourself an A+. When looking for a class to fulfill your arts requirement, I recommend something culinary. It's a fine way to hone your ability to cook delicious meals. Face it, the women love a man who can make something more than Ramen Noodles or Easy-Mac. Do yourself the service of taking a cooking course, and I guarantee it will reward you one night later this semester. Moreover, you'll have 1-5 easy credits added towards graduating on time.



#3. CHEAT CHEAT CHEAT. You are in college now. No more of that high school, writing on your hand or rubber band bullshit. Time to step your game up. At the end of the day, no one cares how you pass, just as long as you pass. Chances are that you will have at least one difficult class each semester that you are going to struggle through. In order to pass them you need to know the various tactics of effective and stealthy cheating. You would think that cheating is easiest when in a lecture hall. Wrong. Professors think that they have eliminated the success of cheating by giving out different tests. Well I have found ways around this. Lectures can contain up to approximately 600 people, meaning that the instructor obviously cannot match your name with your face (unless you make it a habit of sporadically yelling out "O'Doyel Rules" in the middle of class). All you need is someone that knows the test material or someone in another section that has already taken the exam (and maybe a 20 dollar bill) to take the exam for you. It's that simple. Also, some teachers will put their lectures into media files on Blackboard where you can download them and put them on to your nifty little iPod. I must say I have bobbed my head to the beat of a final review during my entire final exam for 5 semesters. And when instructors are actually generous enough to allow the use of a single note card on a test, it is your scholarly duty to make at least 7 and rotate them throughout the test session. Who memorizes information in 2008? Not Dash and I advise you to follow my lead my young apprentice. I don't even write my own research papers. No, I don't believe this is plagiarism. Copying all your information from one source is bon a fide plagiarism. Redrafting information from an abundance of sources is what I like to call extensive research. Think about that.

Look. You know the deal: I'm dropping 3 gems and I'm out. Hopefully, you remain undeclared and take a lot of Golf and Tae Kwon Doe classes. I say this because the classes that actually make up your major and prepare you for your future profession (the classes that really matter)are the classes that you most likely will do well (if not change your god damn major). It's those bloody core courses that will attack your gpa. And here at Team Dashy, we feel that class should be the last thing stressing you throughout your college career. You have bigger fish to fry. Did you get that fat chick pregnant? Is health services open for late night emergency visits? How do you get all those porn pop-ups to stop attacking your roommate's laptop? I'm just saying...

I Will "Take That" No More Diddy...

Let me open up this passage with a simple question directed solely to Mr. Sean "Diddy" Combs: Since when did you rule the world? For some odd reason, you have come to believe that you have become the king of the music/entertainment industry. How you have come to this conclusion about yourself baffles me and anyone else who might witness you all over television acting the complete fool. Now I can't watch the rest of the nonsense "reality" shows that come on MTV because you, sir, have decided to make not one, but TWO bullshit bands. Mind you, we don't even bring up the very first band you attempted to assemble (even though that band was BY FAR more entertaining than any of your more recent creations). Yes, I am obviously talking about the tribe of ignorant hoodrats you so eloquently named "Da Band". Do you know how much America loved Da Band? Every single week, my high school physics teacher wouldn't even give my class homework on nights when your very first Making the Band was scheduled to air. Do you know how much my friends and I laughed at the sheer sight of Ness, who struggled with weight issues and strongly resembled Goo from Nickelodeon's "My Brother & Me" or Wendel from "The Parenthood"? We thought you was just showing America your sense of humor by effectively recreating Dave Chappelle's idea of the Mad Real World by putting these miscreants in one home. Anyway, Da Band was the worst group of all time; however what made them cool was the very fact that every week you would shut the studio down and you refused to acknowledge Dylan as the greatest rapper of all time. Yet, today you've got these suburban bands who just make us angry. Aside from all the flashing lights and semi-humorous interruptions with Diddy wearing oversized shirts saying statements like "Long Live The King," there is nothing entertaining about this show. And, where do you get the names of these bands from? Danity Kane? STOP PUTTING "DK" IN LIGHTS. Unless you plan on having a giant gorilla come out on the stage to kidnap one of your blond performers, I don't want to see it. I hope a little Japanese man from Nintendo sees this and sues your ass, Diddy. And let us not forget about Day 26. You might as well chalk that project right now. I happened to catch their music video one day during the two hour time block that "Music Television" actually plays a couple music videos. After watching this nonsense I was 100% certain that their choreographer, without a shadow of a doubt, taught this routine while in a wheelchair. I've never seen so much arm motion in my life. And who thought that it was acceptable to put in special effects to make it look like they were in the matrix? You are all doofuses (doofusi?) and I hope your plane crashes...and then of course Diddy will make millions from a tribute track...

I must move on before I get thoroughly disgusted and punt my laptop. While watching this MTB4 (by the way, WE'RE ON SEASON 9 JACKASS), I actually thought that I could catch a break when the commercials finally came on. But NO...what else do I see? I see you Mr. Combs, fully dressed in a well tailored suit, seated in a chair telling me that you have another show airing on VH1 entitled "I Want to Work for Diddy". The idea of this show just gives me the willies. First off, who in his right mind would want to work for you? You are not Donald Trump. You sign artists that make one hit and are never heard from again. Oh you need examples? What ever happened to B5? They're probably dropping some background vocals on Sesame Street (and the 24 year old brother in the group is PISSED). 8Ball & MJG are terrible. I'm leaving 8Ball (who humorously resembles an 8 ball so his stage name does not impress) a Baconator in his mail box, and I will video tape his disappointment when he discovers it is made entirely of rubber and squeaks when squeezed. 112 was a legit R&B group as they whined out bedroom classics. But I hear they have broken up over money issues (because Diddy needs all that cash). Loon, Dream (Diddy's first set of white girls), Kane (Diddy's WHITE RAPPER PROJECT), and G Dep: WHO? All Mario Winans ever did was cry on every single track. True Story: there's an interlude on his album where he blows his nose for 7 seconds. Carl Thomas. How the shit are you on a label called BAD BOY and you have the softest voice of all time?! Black Rob most likely got shot on a corner due to his excessive need to keep it real and mumbled "WHOA" as he died while sprinkling crack on himself. Shyne is never getting out of prison and is definitely scraping money together to sponsor a hit on Diddy. I'm certain Faith Evans is irrelevant in 2008. And your former sidekick Mase became a preacher and then somehow joined G-Unit as "Murder Mase" (still having the slowest flow of all time). Let's face it Danity Kane and Day 26: as soon as your shows are no longer on the TV at night, Diddy will rob and rape you (figuratively and literally).  Then you too can claim to have had hits or classics but now work as head hostess in your hometown's Chilli's.

If your "stars" can't even keep employment at Bad Boy, how are these normal people going to survive? You got fat boys running around New York in their underwear claiming that he is the Applesauce Bandit and women ripping out their own eyelashes just for amusement on http://www.diddy.com/. How is this even considered training for becoming an assistant of some sort? Can you actually put "Diddy's Applesauce Bandit" on a resume? This show should just be called "Diddy's Bitch". While I do enjoy watching America's underclass complete ridiculous challenges, it also saddens me that they are doing it for a man who is ridiculed for his main claim to fame: ad-libbing on other artists' tracks as he whispers "...take that, take that...". TAKE WHAT DIDDY?!?! Congratulations. You made the exclamation used after winning a round in Battleship an actual quote the Valedictorian used in his speech at graduation last June. How is it that you achieved so much success? How is it that Biggie's sidekick stole all the spotlight once he died? You should have gone to jail because I think you killed that large man. That's right I said it. Diddy orchestrated the East Coast/West Coast war so he could inconspicuously rise into relevance. Well done sir...hit 'em while no one's looking.

And this new show that you are coming out with where you are trying to make "the next pop star" should be X'ed before you even begin. I can't take 3 Diddy influenced shows on the air at the same time. After seeing what is going on with Donnie your "budding" solo star on ice, I am convinced you will never succeed in this endeavor. This poor white man moves like Pinocchio as he jerks his body across the stage. He will never be a Justin Timberlake or Usher or anything that even resembles a qualified dancing R&B artist. Sigh...It's over for Bad Boy Entertainment Mr. Combs. The only entertainment I now receive from Bad Boy is the fact that you thought you could revive the careers of New Edition. You should be slapped with O.J.'s gloves dipped in dog shit. Just accept it...when you thought it was necessary to hold a press conference to urgently announce that you no longer wanted to go by "Puffy" but "P. Diddy" AND THEN hold another news conference a year later alerting America to simply "drop the P from P. Diddy", you solidified your picture in the Funk & Wagnall's Dictionary next to the term "Village Idiot." You once held the world in the palm of your hand. You had a hit factory pumping out classics I still bump today (I will forever throw my rolly-less wrist in the sky and wave it side to side whether the song is playing or not). 2 of my closest Asian friends and I still have a shiny suit hanging up our closets. I STILL try to drive backwards at 50mph on empty roads. You not only invented the remix, but you and J.Lo invented the "power couple." I loved you Puff Daddy (pause). But when you became Diddy, you became all that was wrong in the world...

The Gumbies...

Who would have thought that in 1954 when the clay animation Gumby first debuted that this green booger looking creature would be the forefather of a commonly worn hairstyle of the 90s decade? For those who do not know, Gumby was a heroic green block of clay who kept children entertained as it was featured on the Howdy Doody Show. Look, you may not know much about Gumby but he is the sole inventor of the “Gumby” cut, or also known as a variation of the high top fade. So I have decided to have my own awards ceremony known as “The Gumbies” where I will set the categories and award its winners. This is a relatively new awards ceremony and it has not yet reached the status of the BET Awards (so Lil Wayne and his skinny jeans will not be performing this year) but I promise sheer entertainment and the one and only Pokey will present the Gumby Vanguard Award for showing longevity in the field of high top fades. So without further ado...

The award for “The Whitest High Top Fade of All Time”
Although German native and Seattle Supersonics forward Detlef Schrempf, Canadian reggae artist Snow, and Vanilla Ice are all valid contenders for our first award, I must give the award for the Whitest High Top Fade to Kid from the rap group Kid N’ Play. This trailblazer in high top fadery is whiter than John McCain. The melanin challenged dancing rapper has consistently had the most well-groomed and artistically designed high top fade throughout the 90s. Now he does Wal-Mart commercials. Well played sir...

The award for “The Most Dancing While Donning a High Top Fade of All Time”
This category’s winner was initially a no-brainer with MC Hammer getting the Gumby trophy; however after a recount of the votes between MC Hammer, The Fresh prince of Bel-Air’s Will Smith, and Vanilla Ice, none of these nominees beat out Zack the Black Ranger from the first season of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. Zack the Black Ranger, if you remember, was such an exquisite dancer that producers of the show made this jiggaboo actually dance as he fought enemies such as the Putty Patrollers. Way to go. All your jumping around inspired Omarion in later years. Thank you for this...

The award for “All Time Nerd with a High Top Fade”
The nominees: Doogie Houser M.D., Family Matters’ Steve Urkel, and Carlton Banks. The winner is clearly Steve Urkel. Even his “Cool Elixir” couldn’t make his white jeans something I would rush to TJ Max to purchase. Furthermore, you still have a high top fade today and you and Gary Coleman go to the same fucking therapist.

The award for “Most Influential Animated High Top Fade of All Time”
This was a tough category. Here we had running were Captain Planet, Hammerman, Vince Lasalle from Recess, Gerald Johansen from Hey Arnold!, and Mr. Sinister from X-Men. All of which were blown out of the water by the majority of the cast of Nickelodeon’s Doug. Doug Funnie, Skeeter Valentine, Roger Klotz, and Chalky Studebaker all sported a different variation of the high top fade thus allowing them to come up to the podium and accept their award while Killer Tofu plays in the background. Well done citizens of Bluffington…

The award for “Most Appearances as a Villain with a High Top Fade of All Time”
This was not a category initially. However, I figured Wesley Snipes hasn’t seen any real shine since the 90s anyway. However this man not only played Blade (the vampire nigga with wild parts cut into the sides of his scalp) but also the bleach blond high top fade having villain Simon Phoenix from Demolition Man, Nino Brown the leader of the Cash Money Brothers in New Jack City, the spotlight greedy saxophonist Shadow Handerson in Mo Betta Blues, and the money swindling Sydney Dean in White Man Can’t Jump. This black bastard has been able to play a villain with a high top fade for more than a decade. Congratulations on this as well as being the darkest nigga in China. Furthermore, whoever convinced Wesley Snipes that bleaching his hair and wearing blue contacts is the most diabolical man of all time. "Hey Wesley, you know what will REALLY get the panties to fall..."

And finally, the Gumby Vanguard Award for displaying incredible consistency in the art of wearing the high top fade throughout the ages: Listerine. I believe nothing needs to be said here…fuck yall.



Congratulations to all of our nominees...

Dash's Guide to College Living (Section I)...

WAKE UP GOD DAMMIT. It’s the month of September and it’s that time of the year again. College orientation and move-in has come and gone and now it’s time to get into the swing of things. For those of you just starting out on this college adventure, you’ve already experienced your new student orientation where the cafeteria food was for some reason utterly delicious and the sight of the multitudes of fresh new women was even more appetizing. Never in your life have you ever met more engaging people. Everyone wanted a new friend so it was easy to spark up a conversation about socket wrenches and made a potential lifelong buddy. Every chick had a life story of some sort which you’ve actively ignored as you internally plotted how you were going to in some way seduce her AND any other female that walked by while she was talking. You’ve already experienced back to school shopping and then packing up all your stuff and cramming it into your parents’ minivan for move in day. You’ve had that awkward conversation with your future roommate about the life and death stuff: where are you from…what’s your major…are you bringing the fridge because I’m bringing the x-box. Now, you have actually moved in to that 40x40 white cube you will spend the remainder of the year living. Young man, WELCOME TO ACADEMIA!!! Now let your education begin…

Firstly, allow me to state this: there is so much more to “higher learning” than going to class, maintaining a high grade point average, participating in extracurricular activities, and resume building. All of that is necessary, I assure you. However, when you go home for Christmas break and are sitting around one night with the old gang and everyone is telling stories of their first semester away from home, no one is going to give two shits about how high your GPA has gotten. They’re going to be too busy praising the ground your boy Terry walks on because he has accomplished knocking down the teaching assistant from his Intro to Lit course in the university’s library stacks…TWICE. Yes, Terry is the man, but HEY you have a 3.76 grade point average; so theoretically Terry should work for you one day. Yet, because Terry seems to exude such unparalleled social skills, it could be possible that one day you could work for him and I guess that’s not very fair. So even though I support academic achievement, I still think it is very vital to conquer other areas of college that do not include Scan-Tron sheets and cramming John Locke passages late into the night. So below are some areas of higher learning that aren't taught from a woman with 17 degrees:

Have NO LESS than 10 Disney DVDs (7 animated and 3 unanimated). Oh, you think this shit is gay? Well that’s just the type of thinking that won’t get you any vagina in what should be the most effortless booty-accomplishing time of your life. Rule number 6 in the Dashy Guide to College Achievement: Bitches love Disney shit. By having Disney movies (because DVD dates are extremely affordable on a college budget as well as the gateways to an evening of opportunity) shows a girl that A) you don’t mind watching something that she might like or brings back nostalgic memories, B) it’s the perfect opportunity to cuddle up under the blanket on your sofa or bed, and C) every Disney flick has romantic portions that are very opportune for you to make your own move. By no means do I think women are stupid, but this is a proven way of starting off an evening with a woman quite well. Many times have I paused The Lion King during “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” to feel some fucking lovin’ of my own. And I swear to God, once you master the “Disney-as-my-wingman” tactic, you will NEVER even get passed the opening credits of Finding Nemo. NOTE: If you have 10 Disney DVDs you need to have at least 20 DVDs that are not animated or child related. A college male with only Disney movies is just creepy…

Master the art of Facebook and AIM: The Facebook has become the number 1 social network in America. Even my mother is on Facebook. AIM Instant Messaging used to be the most common means of communication besides text messaging among teens and college students. Yet, Facebook has added Facebook chat and it's growing. But still, you can use the powers of Facebook to initiate conversation and then use AIM to keep your subject engaged and intrigued. With that being said, it's necessary to harness the powers of these two mediums and use them for your own purposes. Despite what your parents and grade school teachers always told you, everyone loves a wise guy. No one reads Facebook profiles unless they are interesting and/or funny. Women particularly don’t care that your favorite movie is 300. But I guarantee you’ll catch someone’s attention if you type: "I enjoyed going to see Sex in the City three times. And each time I dressed up as Ironman, the Hulk, or Hancock and punched any man I caught in the theater NOT dressed up like Ironman, the Hulk or Hancock." Who really cares about the “About Me” section? Just type something obscure and maybe someone reads it. The objective of Facebook gets accomplished by the first part of this compound word: your FACE. This would be why so many people scramble to put up their most attractive pictures (whether it’s the picture from last weekend’s party or from your 8th grade formal). Side note: it really isn’t cool seeing what you chicks do in the bathroom. I see these dumb fucking albums you post every Monday. What the fuck possesses you bitches into going to a bathroom and taking pictures of each other next to soap dispensers? Who wants to see a bitch posing in a bathroom with damp hands? I really hate that shit. I actually have put together a task force of myself and three friends dedicated to busting these female bathroom operations. We are equipped with bulletproof vests, tear gas, and tazers. Bitches, you have been warned. Anyway, it is the profile picture alone that will get you implemented into the Facebook culture. The better looking (or in some cases, the more creative) your profile picture appears, the quicker you will discover friend and group requests, and event invitations when you log in. Moreover, I understand that we all hate when our inbox gets filled with message reminders from party promoters and frat house party updates; but they will keep you in the loop of the social life on and around your college community. Remember, some of you may not be 21 and can’t just walk into a nearby bar. You need to know who’s throwing these bangers around your campus. So don’t be so quick to “decline” a friend request from Raymond “I-throw-the-illest-most-coked-out-flyest-bitches-havin’-newest-music-bumpin-parties-of-all-time” Wellington III. Facebook can be very influential to your college career. However, I warn you that the more you immerse yourself into the Facebook culture, the more likely the Facebook will turn on you (i.e. photos popping up of you in the background raiding the frat house refrigerator or tonguing down one of the muscular softball chicks).

Learn Greek: Every college has Greek Life on its campus. Explore that. According to the TV shows and the movies, these are supposedly the WILDEST parties of life. We're talking about the KY Jelly wrestling matches, indoor beach parties, live band keggers, Golf Pros & Tennis Hos themed parties, etc. The frat houses are three floors of sex, drugs, and rock & roll (literally) located all around your campus. Every Thursday through Saturday evening they are open to all the students to get their groove on. Of course the ladies are getting in for free. The frats want the women, but the women want more than just the frat guys. So that’s why they let non-Greek guys in. But as a non-Greek guy, they are going to charge you, especially if the party has yet to get popping so to speak. So when you get there, and you initially pay between $2 and $15, make sure you get your money’s worth and put in ground work as you get to know the brothers throwing the shin-dig. I don’t recommend you kiss ass because then they are going to think you want to pledge and then they will definitely charge you everytime they see you (and probably ask you to stick around to help clean up afterward). Just enjoy the party and make yourself a fixture as a cool guy looking to party so that when you show up at their door next week they let you in for free because they know you’re down to make a great party. Furthermore, Greek parties are where the magic (and mushrooms) happens. So embrace the frats. Some of the guys in can be dicks, but you’re just using their house as a setting to hone your social skills and set yourself up for future stories that will define your collegiate career in ways only described as Van Wilder-esque.

Well, I can’t give you all the jewels of my handbook at once so you’re just going to have to stick around for further ways to develop a better social education. Just understand that although many universities have different environments, demographics, and campus staples, these three aspects of a college will remain the same regardless of where you go to school. So get out there and find a chick on Facebook. Get her to message you her screen name. Then ask her to meet you at a frat house where you got the hook up with the brothers who can score you the good weed and secret liquor stash on the upper floors. Then after the party, bring her back to your dorm room, offer her some Easy-Mac, and pop in Toy Story. And take that chick to infinity and beyond...